152 Alone Chapter 16 - 3

Setting her out of his mind, Cesare started his own training. Easing into the flowing movements of yoga, he let the asana's take him away, each breath pushed into his chest with the hot feel of life. Heat flowed thick and heavy through muscles, winding its course away from his heart. Peace grew in his mind, tightening a noose around his worries, suffocating his anxiety.

Serenity overtook his troubled mind, the waves of his consciousness settling into a still pool of reflection, moved by feelings deeper, truer, beyond the trickery of thought. Illusion, reality, pain, and pleasure were all the same, disturbances in the peace of existence. He was, he existed, he fought and bled, wept and laughed, reality and illusion were just words.

His body moved without thought, dancing to a song that thrummed at the core of his being. Predatory and dangerous, the song was who he was. Human and wolf, a contradiction woven into a tapestry perfectly balanced by the sable wolf transforming him one grain of sand at a time.

Unplanned and without doubt, it flowed from a place that was neither real nor illusion. There was no thought, to think was to be outside the moment, thoughts were of the future or the past, they could never be the now. Reality and illusion were words that existed for people. Words didn't shape the moment, they carved it up into small pieces, dissected the beauty, confining it to sterile boxes.

He couldn't win against the queen, not as he was. No power he had, or weapon he could fashion, would even the odds against something that made a vampire pause. Cesare's only hope was to sink his mind into the moment, to fall into that timeless space so deeply that his attack was perfect. His only chance was to be supernaturally precise, to slip into an opening with a single deadly attack, dominant, overwhelming force, condensed on a spot the size of a dime.

Laying in its golden coils, the Kundalini rustled in pleasure. Hot and dry, the susurration ran through his soul in a snake's caress of pleasure. Lazily sensual, it luxuriated in the stillness of his mind, the smooth feel of bones and muscle moving in concert. Lost in that stillness, time ceased.

Cesare slowly came up from the depths of his consciousness, the day rushing back into him, devouring the peace and serenity of the moving meditation. An echo remained, the veneer of peace as gauzy as a new spun spider web. Opening his eyes, he wasn't surprised to see the girls watching. Surprise was a thing of expectation. In that place of no thought, there were no assumptions, only reality.

Anastasia's eyes burned with a desire she wouldn't hide. A slow, wicked smile of welcome tightening her needy look. He wanted her, to feel her warmth enveloping him, to look down on her while he sheathed himself in her body. He wished he could accept a relationship without commitments. But you couldn't change what the heart wanted, you had to live with the agony of wanting what you'd never have.

Alexandra watched him hungrily, pride, want, and need creating a chimeric stare that pulled at Cesare in ways that had nothing to do with sex, well, not much anyway. Primal and needful, it called to him, demanding he submit to her power. Alexandra was a killer, an apex predator, she couldn't see another fighter and not want to break them. She thirsted for combat, the need to dominate wedded to her blood-stained soul.

Different, they were so very different. And they'd never be his. He was part of their lives, some days he believed they liked him, and it mattered less than what he'd had for breakfast. They would go back to their lives and he would go back to his. Cesare could never fit into their world as anything but an embarrassment, and they would never settle for the gutter that birthed him.

"I have presents for Alexandra, and we need to go over the new training," Cesare said, sidestepping the open questions that hung in the air. Nothing good would come from staring at the fault lines in their relationships.

Cesare opened the duffel bag he'd left on the table, pulling out the presents he'd had Kali get Alexandra. It looked like a semi-automatic pistol, only a small black canister under the barrel gave away the lie.

Alexandra pulled it from the holster, carefully turning to the side as she weighed it in her hand and sighted down it. "Heavy, but not unwieldy. The balance's good." Popping the magazine, she looked at the weird clip in question.

"It's a paintball gun," Cesare said, answering her silent question. "I had Kali special order it from a dealer that specializes in guns like this."

"While I appreciate the gesture, I don't see the need for anything this fancy," Alexandra said, eyes moving between the gun and Cesare.

Smiling at the vampire, he pulled out the rifle version. Black as sin, it was a finely machined SCAR still shiny with newness. Looking at Cesare, Alexandra hefted the rifle, bringing it to her shoulder with an approving smile. "I still don't see why you got these. I don't need something like this to shoot paintballs."

Cesare handed the pistol to Alexandra. "Come on, I'll show you." Walking beside him, Alexandra slipped the belt on, adjusting it with the unconscious grace of long practice. The equipment was designed for an experienced operator. Metal clips, tactical nylon, and Kevlar, every piece hand made with even the paintball's filled individually. These weren't toys for weekend warriors, they were lethal weapons.

Stopping at a distance from the targets, Cesare smiled at Alexandra. "You always say how well trained you are. Well, here's your chance to prove it."

Quirking an eyebrow, she gave him a dry look. "Paintball's aren't bullets. A bullet cuts the air, a paintball wallows through it like a bloated hippo." Even as the words left her mouth, she was smoothly bringing up the gun, already flashing to her sight picture.

Professional and supremely competent, there was no hitch between hitting her ready and firing, one fluid motion, body tightening behind the gun, pushing slightly toward the target to control recoil. Quiet puffs of air sounded as she sent tight bursts of fire down range. Each hit was evaluated and corrected, shots zeroing in as she felt out the weapon and the way it performed. Wet splashes hit the dummies with quiet pops of exploding plastic. She clicked empty on her seven-round magazine, holstering the gun with a side long look of anticipation.

Without a word, Cesare led them down range to the dummy, acrid and biting, the smell ate at the nose and burned the throat. A clear coat of liquid covered the dummy, bubbling and sizzling, the corrosive liquid impotently struggled against the overpowering wards.

Wide eyed, Alexandra pulled a pencil from her pocket to poke at the frothing solvent, the pencil disintegrated in seconds on contact. Alexandra involuntarily took a step back before catching herself. "How?"

Cesare grinned at her shocked face. "Sodium Hydroxide put into the paintballs." Even as the words came out, he slipped his hand into Anastasia's.

Anastasia had her life destroyed by acid, to see it weaponized was a nightmare in the making. If Cesare had been able to come up with another way to get Alexandra the edge she needed, he would have taken it without looking back. But when you're dealing with something like the queens, you didn't have the luxury of choice. If he gave the vampire anything less than his best, the insect would tear her apart.

Clutching his hand, Anastasia's face was tight as she mastered the terror surging in her eyes. Steeping away from the dummy, Cesare led the girls back to the table, hearing the deep sigh of relief that gusted from the akatharton.

Looking over at him, Alexandra's eyes never strayed to the akatharton. "Will it work against the queens? Chitin isn't skin."

The girls sat down opposite each other with Cesare coming up behind Anastasia, setting his hands on her shoulders. Only he could feel the tremble that rippled through her, scarlet hair stretching to caress ghost like over his flesh.

"We're only using it to get the wings," Cesare said, meeting the vampire's eyes. "The wings are how they move, it's the core of their maneuverability. They let them direct the course of the fight, when you engage and for how long. Destroying those wings is like breaking a man's knees … it'll cripple them, making them easy meat for your specialty." Alexandra nodded, looking at the guns with new eyes.

Taking the pistol up, she checked the action of the trigger with a satisfied smile. "Feels good in the hand, and it clears the holster well. Someone spent the time to zero out the sights, I only had to adjust on the long shots. I'm not too sure how accurate the paintball's will be."

"You'll need practice," Cesare stated. "That comes to my next point. I'm combining your workouts." Anastasia stiffened under his hands. "Me and Anastasia will be outside the field of dummies while you take cover behind them. The goal will be for us to hit the dummies you hide behind and for you to hit us with regular paintballs." Cesare nodded at the two clips that had a red strip down them.

The girls grinned at each other, Anastasia relaxing into Cesare's hands. It was like Christmas had come early. They were opposites in every way that counted with only one thing in common. They'd always been the best, the strongest, the one no one fucked with. They might be hated, feared, loved, or worshipped but they'd held the spotlight.

That had changed with Cesare. They'd been forced together, forged into a team. They'd excelled on their own, disdained others and taken what they wanted from the world. They'd had problems, torturous, horrific issues, but they'd gloried in being the singularly most powerful being around. That was gone, now they were forced to share. And neither was the sharing type.

The girls eagerly made for the range. Alexandra slipped the pistol into its holster, tightening the straps for the SCAR around her arm. She tucked the spare clips for the rifle into the holsters belt.

"You're learning two different sets of tactics. But they have a common ground. Observe, orient, decide, and act. It drive's to one point, tactically superior choices made within less than a second. Whether that's a flash sight picture of your target or changing from a standing stance to a crouched one. A battle is a dynamic thing, it's like dancing, if you stop, you lose."

Alexandra nodded, making for the field of targets. Stepping into his arms, Anastasia sighed with satisfaction as she pressed into the brutal hardness of Cesare's slim frame. Running his hands down her shoulders, he felt the subtle tension that tightened like piano wires stitched through flesh between them. Sex, need, want, and desire, fighting an endless war over who'd get their way.

Setting his hand on her soft hips, Cesare pulled her tightly against his body. Caressing along her bare stomach, he felt the steel core sheathed in velvet skin. His other hand ghosted over the smooth plane, stopping when it dipped into her soft place.

"What's the plan for me?" Anastasia asked, burrowing into his chest. fingers playing softly over the backs of his hands.

"Like I told you earlier, no trick will win this fight. The weapons I gave Alexandra were things she'd already trained with, just with more effective ammunition. Those weapons are playing to her strengths in a way that will maximize their impact on her opponent." Cesare ducked his head into the crock of her neck, taking her smell deep into himself.

"Over the next weeks, we'll take the separate things you've learned and craft them into a whole. That's all you need. It's all you've ever needed," Cesare said.

"My mom…" Anastasia started.

Cesare cut her off, tightening his arms around her. "You're not Kali. And that's not a bad thing. You can do this. Anastasia, the Lady of Ruin, can burn down a queen of the Hive and walk off that field with her head held high." His words were little more than a whisper breathed across her neck. "You can do it because you're special. Because you're a goddess, like your mother, not the same, but just as worthy. I believe in you, not because you need it, but because you're worth believing in."

The tension that had tightened along her muscles slipped away at his words. We needed people so much. Needed them to hold us when we hurt, to whisper the words of comfort when we cry, and to love us when we can't love ourselves. But the one thing we forget is that we need people to believe in us, those wonderful people that have faith when we don't have faith in ourselves.

Sometimes Cesare thought that was what made winners and losers. Having someone behind you that caught you when you fell, that said you were gold when all you saw was common stone. That one person didn't just love you but believed in you, never failing to tell you that you were special. Maybe it wasn't about being a winner, maybe it meant more than that, wasn't knowing you had someone like that worth more than being a winner?